#an actual discourse between torb and zen

[overwatch-does-stuff]

Overwatch: Of Mind and Body, Of Body and Mind

Summary: When everything is chaotic, it doesn't help when your primary caretakers and two closest friends believe that the other can't help you. But Bastion needs them both, now more than ever. ---

   "Greetings, Bastion, friend. Come in."    Zenyatta's abode (it wasn't a room, Bastion decided, it was more than that,) was alight with a soft golden glow that spread from the center of the room, where the monk sat, his legs crossed, with his hands on his knees. Normally, dim lighting would only make Bastion more nervous, but as they stepped into the room they only felt peace.    It was very nice, a contrast from earlier today, where they had froze up while tending to their garden.    "You may sit or stand as you please, friend." Zenyatta did not move, but his words rolled through Bastion's audials like. . . water flowing over rocks in a stream.    Bastion considered both options. Standing was neutral, but rising above Zenyatta like so felt disrespectful. But, sitting down, in the only way that Bastion could, would cause a rather loud crash that would end the sense of peace that permeated the room. And what if the sudden movement caused their own protocols to awaken again? With that thought came the phantom rush of the notifications again. Bastion tensed, bringing up their weak, self-coded mental walls against the impending round of compulsions.    Something took Bastion's hand and brought it up from their side. Delicate metal fingers trailed across the palm, before embracing it. Bastion refocused their optic onto the real world to see Zenyatta standing. He held their hand in both of his. Bastion looked down at the sight before looking back to Zenyatta's face.    "I sense great trouble within you," the monk said softly. "Would you like to share it with me? Perhaps I can help to ease your worries today."    Bastion tried to vocalize, but found the subroutine missing and didn't dare look further to find it. They looked away.    "If you don't feel like speaking it is alright. You can join me in my meditation." Zenyatta's grip loosened on their hand. "Let us sit down."    Zenyatta gave a small downward pull on their hand as he lowered himself to the floor without a sound. Bastion took a pause, steeling themselves for the noise and the falling that came with the act of sitting down. They urged their movement servos the relax. They felt their center of gravity begin to shift, backwards, drawn in that direction by the weight of their sentry gun barrel. Just as their body approached tipping point, however, stability warnings flooded through Bastion's systems, causing them to lurch back upright with a loud creak.    The noise seemed to reverberate throughout the room. Bastion froze. Zenyatta was standing again in moments. He reached forwards, and put his hand on Bastion's chest.    Zenyatta said, "it is alright, friend. All is well. I now understand what is troubling you. It is your past that worries you."    No, it wasn't. The problem wasn't with the images of the battlefield or the Crisis, not anymore. Those nightmares had faded after Bastion had left the forests of Eichenwalde. The past was behind, rather, it was the now! It was the warnings going off and off and off all the time even though Bastion knew there was no danger! Even when everything was absolute bliss, their stupid processor would just. . . would just. . .    Bastion turned away from Zenyatta and walked out the door. They were sure the monk tried to say something in protest, but they didn't listen to what it was.    The walk to Torbjorn's workshop was nearly across the Watchpoint. Bastion passed many faces (some fleeting in memory, some a bit more familiar,) but not one of the faces looked at them for more than a brief second. They all quietly slid out of Bastion's path without a word, clearing the path to the objective.    The workshop door was closed, but it peeled like flower petals when Bastion tore through. When the sound of tearing metal ceased, Torbjorn came out from behind a table, shaking. He was holding a wrench but as he laid eyes on Bastion he dropped it. He dived behind the table again.    Bastion came over to a workbench that looked relatively empty and sat down. They began running diagnostics. That was the first step of a checkup, right?    "What. . . the hell?" Torbjorn said with fear in his voice. Fear was normal for humans upon sight of an E54 unit. Fear was expected.    Bastion paid no mind, continuing the diagnostics check. No bugs, no glitched.    "What is this all about? What are you doing here? Why, why did you destroy my door?!"    Thanks to an analysis of their subroutines, Bastion finally found the one that to activate their vocalizer again. Their rusty omnicode sputtered out all over the room. "Fix-me."    "What is wrong with you?!" Torbjorn grit his teeth together.    "Fix-me." Bastion coded the message requesting repairs again.    It took Torbjorn a moment to figure out what they were saying. "Well no shit, you need fixing, by the looks of it. Whatever's gotten into you to destroy my workshop is surely something. What's gotten into you?"    "Fix."    "I hear you! What do your diagnostics say, you useless lump of steel?!"    After a moment of pause, Bastion pointed to their head.    "That's very specific. Any particular programs? Is it related to a mode?"    Bastion again waved their hand at their head.    "The whole thing?" Torbjorn asked incredulously.    Bastion nodded.    "Okay, so it sounds like your diagnostic systems themselves are faulty, then, because despite your distinct lack of logic processing sometimes, you haven't crashed your entire system. If that were true, you'd be offline."    Offline. Would it be like a recharge period, only with no sudden jolts of old memories? No, no, it was best not to dwell on such thoughts.    "You aren't offline. So, therefore, I actually have to find the problem. Now, you haven't been able to let me look at your processor before, remember?"    Bastion remembered. They had tried to ease their self-protection subroutines enough to have Torbjorn take a single diagnostic panel off their head, but in an instant. . . Bastion came out of their memory banks and looked to find the spots on the wall where bullet holes had been crudely patched. They had almost hurt Torbjorn that day.    And looking back at the door they had just burst through, it was clear that they still had every ability to do so again.    All of the purpose drained from Bastion's body and they collapsed to the ground with a loud thud. How ironic. The crash again caused Torbjorn to dive for cover, but he inched back over as Bastion stayed still. They avoided his fearful gaze.    "What is wrong with you?" Torbjorn asked again, much softer this time.    Bastion made a slow, grand, sweeping gesture over the entirety of their body.    "Everything? That's impossible. You are fully functioning." Torbjorn mused, not in his usual scolding tone.    Bastion whirred wordlessly, almost unsure of why they were making any noise at all.    "I don't understand."    Bastion looked past him.    "Tell me more. What's wrong? What do your diagnostics say?" Torbjorn began to pace. "What can I do? What can I change-?"    At the word change, Bastion let out a trill, acknowledging chirp.    Torbjorn paused and gave Bastion an incredulous look. "You mean, you have a problem with your design?"    He uttered the word like it was offensive to him. Bastion hesitated to nod.    "Wha- but, I designed you!" He practically spat. "You're my state-of-the-art design! My perfect design! The best damn machine I ever built! You were so successful that you all nearly wiped out the entire human race! And you're telling me that you have a problem with your design?!"    Bastion was frozen. Successful. Wiping out. Humans. Their original purpose. It was no secret to them, but hearing Torbjorn of all people openly exclaim it was jarring. Every other human they had met had tried to cushion the topic, to lampshade out the guns attached to Bastion's form, to ignore any and all signs of that previous purpose that so often bubbled up, but here, now. . .    Torbjorn was breathing heavily from the outburst. The look on his face was unreadable. He looked Bastion over up and down, over and over again.    "I," he started, before looking away. "I can't change that design of yours. That's what makes it so perfect, don't you know?"    The self-preservation protocols. The bullet holes in the workshop wall. Of course Bastion knew.    "I can't tell you that I can try, either. I don't like false hope, and I'm not one to give it." He continued.    "But that does not mean we should give up the hope we have."    The other voice caused Torbjorn to flinch. He looked past Bastion, and his face immediately grew irritated. Bastion swiveled his head around to see Zenyatta standing in the broken door.    "You. What do you want?" Torbjorn asked gruffly.    "I want to help Bastion. Is this what you wish as well?" Zenyatta replied, staying by the door.    Torbjorn paused. "Yes."    "Then we share a similar goal, then."    For once, Torbjorn was completely speechless in front of the monk. Normally, Bastion remembered, the man had some sort of cruel retort on the back of his tongue, but now there was only a silence full of thought.    He eventually spoke. "Alright, tell me what's wrong with Bastion here, then."    "I believe Bastion is suffering from a conflict between their will and what they were programmed for."    Torbjorn was again speechless. Bastion could see his lips outline his usual words. You don't have will. I didn't create you with will.    Zenyatta waited until he was done. "I agree with you on one thing. Programming cannot be changed. It is integral to our being."    Torbjorn's face went completely blank with disbelief.    "However, I believe that the power of will can be bolstered to overcome maladaptive programming." The monk continued.    The engineer's usual expression when dealing with Zenyatta returned. He laughed bitterly. "Is that so?"    "Bastion, do you not agree?"    Zenyatta still stood in the remains of the broken door, holding out his hand towards Bastion. Torbjorn, on the other side of them, crossed his arms and blew air at his beard in a huff. A subtle, golden light seemed to be radiating from the monk. Around the engineer was the modest, familiar gray color of the workshop floor. Bastion swiveled their head between the two.    They then looked down at the ground. They wanted to get up, but just as sitting down was difficult, so was standing up. They let out a deep whirr, before bracing themselves for the awkward jump.    Both Zenyatta and Torbjorn came beside them instantly, realizing their intention. Without even the hesitation of realizing the other was helping, the two grabbed Bastion's arms and slowly pulled them up off the floor.    "There you go, up and at 'em-"    "It is okay to ask for help, Bastion-"    The two paused, then looked at each other.    "Thank-you." Bastion coded.    "You're welcome, you lump-"    "You are most welcome, friend-"    Again, the two spoke simultaneously, and upon that recognition they both went quiet again.    "Can you understand Omnicode, Torbjorn?" Zenyatta spoke first. It was the first time Bastion had ever heard him sound doubtful.    "Yes! Of course I can. I helped program the language, after all." Torbjorn replied.    "Fascinating. I was not aware."    "Hmph. In case you didn't notice, I also designed the both of you." Torbjorn rolled his eyes.    Zenyatta took a step closer to Bastion. "I am aware of that. However, you seem to not understand it when your designs develop beyond what you created them for."    Bastion internally cringed at the loaded words. They could see the next biting remark form on Torbjorn's lips.    "Ha! You think I don't know about these 'developments', too?! You think I don't notice when my killing machines decide to start watering flowers?!" Torbjorn violently gestured to Bastion. "You think that I'm not trying to figure out what's changed and how to replicate it?!"    "I am not saying that. I am saying that you seem to prefer not to treat Bastion as a complex being. You know what I say is true." Zenyatta's tone grew icy.    "Yeah, and you like to flit around, telling people about your 'souls' without any goddamn evidence, while I am trying to help Bastion actually change its systems!" Torbjorn took a step towards Bastion as well.    "Yet you neglect the part of them that is perhaps the most susceptible to change."    "At least I'm doing something! All you do is just sit around and talk, like that's going to help the next time Bastion gets startled and has an episode!"    Bastion looked between the two. They tried to wave their hand in a calming motion, but by this point the two of them were facing each other head-on, completely oblivious to Bastion's motions.    "My work helps reduce the amount of episodes Bastion has." Zenyatta said.    "Yeah, but it doesn't stop them, now does it? There's only one way to do that, and only I can do it!" Torbjorn pointed to himself.    "You discount my valuable work with Bastion."    "And you discount MINE!"    It was a spontaneous decision, but one Bastion had complete control over, when they configured into Configuration: Sentry. The sound of Bastion's mechanical transformation startled both the engineer and the monk, though Zenyatta's flinch was less pronounced. Bastion aimed their barrel down the middle of them.    "H-hey Bastion." Torbjorn gave a weak smile. "It's okay. Right? Everything's fine."    "Everything is alright, friend. Torbjorn and I were simply discussing. There is no danger here." Zenyatta added, considerably less shaky.    Bastion moved their barrel back and forth between the two of them. Both appeared to be frozen in time, it seemed like. Torbjorn's breaths were shallow, and Zenyatta's usual rhythm was stilled.    "You-help-me." Bastion coded, first looking at Zenyatta. They then turned to Torbjorn and repeated. "You-help-me."    Torbjorn looked away. His voice was soft. "I'm trying to help you. I mean it."    "Torbjorn, that wasn't a question." Zenyatta corrected. "I believe that was a statement."    Bastion wiggled their barrel up and down, a nod.    "So. . . you're not taking his side?" Torbjorn eyed the monk.    Bastion paused, trying to think of the right coding configuration to express their meaning. "You-both-help-me."    "Bastion, do not feel pressured by him to take his side." Zenyatta also tilted his head slightly to the engineer.    "You-BOTH-help-me." Bastion coded with more emphasis, swinging between the both of them again.    The two looked at each other another time.    "Okay, Bastion. You've made your point." Torbjorn uncrossed his arm, and reached out, crushing Bastion's barrel. "You want to come back to Configuration: Recon now?"    When he withdrew his hand, Bastion did just that. The transformation was smooth and quick, not filled with the usual stiffness of ageing parts nor the usual feelings of dread and exhaustion. Bastion looked to the both of them and let out an indeterminate, happy chirp.    Zenyatta came alongside them. "I am glad that you've reached out and found who helps you along your journey. I support you, no matter if you choose to see me, Torbjorn, or us both."    "I suppose I'm also glad that someone else is trying to help fix you, too." Torbjorn looked at the ground and shrugged.    Bastion hummed happily. They turned to leave, but stopped when they saw the remains of the door. They rotated back around.    "I-help-you?" They coded, gesturing to Torbjorn.    "With the door you broke?" Torbjorn nodded knowingly.    Bastion let out an apologetic whistle.    "Yeah, you'd better apologize, you lump of lugnuts. I swear I had finally fixed that thing last week." Torbjorn said. Bastion could detect an air of teasing.    It looked as if it took Zenyatta a moment to understand the engineer's intent. "Ah, I see. I shall leave you two to your work, then. I have another talk session with Orisa not too long from now."    Bastion nodded. "Say-hello-for-me."    "I will. Goodbye, Bastion." He hesitated. "And goodbye, Torbjorn."    Torbjorn did not respond. Bastion waved as Zenyatta left the room.    "Well! Now that he's gone, let's get to work, shall we?" Torbjorn walked over to his toolbench.    Bastion followed. The bright lights of the workshop illuminated everything, making all things clear. The sound of Torbjorn's metal tools was not chaotic but regular. Normally, the sound of metal on metal would make Bastion nervous, but as they helped with the repairs they only felt peace.    It was very nice.